


Inner Thigh Kiss

by MamaMystique



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut, kiss prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 04:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaMystique/pseuds/MamaMystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bedelia Du Maurier: Angel of Death?"</p><p>Rounding out the last of the kiss prompts I received on Tumblr :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inner Thigh Kiss

This week had been the most difficult for them to date.

“Bedelia Du Maurier: Angel of Death?”

Hannibal frowned at the article splashed in bold print pulled up on Bedelia’s laptop. With the reveal of Freddie Lounds being very much alive, and with his face plastered on every news media site (information and images courtesy of tattlecrime, of course), Hannibal had become increasingly irate. Things were becoming more difficult; hiding places began disappearing one by one. He had been distant with Bedelia lately, and realized that his failure to communicate with her led to his failure to understand the danger she was also in now.

Hannibal skimmed the article, his blood boiling as the words leapt across his vision. Will Graham. Working with Freddie Lounds. Exposing the truth about Hannibal the Cannibal’s once psychiatrist. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer. Lies.

With the help of the man he once trusted, the FBI was beginning to dismantle and uncover what really happened that night. _They are going to ruin her_ , he thought briefly. _They are going to hurt her to hurt me_.

Bedelia’s career was everything to her. She had dedicated her life to her practice, facing fierce competition and isolation as she climbed. She sought to understand. He, Hannibal mused, sought to manipulate. And now he had manipulated her into a corner without intending to do so, leaving her with no exits and her back against the wall. She would never practice again.

“Having confessed to the murder of one of her patients, one must wonder how many others have fallen victim to the pet psychiatrist of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

Hannibal growled as he read the last line, slamming the laptop shut. Pet. Bedelia was no pet. She was the one who proved herself, who hovered at his side and fought. She stepped through the carnage and stood by him, even when she had the chance to turn away. Bedelia was dedicated to him, but she was not his to possess. They existed now as equals.

Angel of Death indeed. That part at least had a ring to it.

Hannibal gazed around the empty library, finding no sign of Bedelia. It was clear she had been reading the article, and, deeply angered, had stormed out. The painting hung near the door was tilted by an inch. She must have slammed it with a great deal of force.

Opening the door quietly, Hannibal proceeded down the hall, listening for her breathing. She had hid somewhere, somewhere where she could think, could analyze, could release. Bedelia dealt with her emotions on an immediate basis, feeling them, studying them, and then moving forward. She could be in any state, he realized. She could either be ruined, or be recovering.

His silent footsteps stopped outside their bedroom door. Another tilted painting, another slammed point of entry. Pressing his ear to the door, he listened cautiously.

She was breathing in there. Distant, fast, almost labored. Crying perhaps? But tears had not fallen from her eyes since their first night in Europe.

Cracking the door quietly, her breaths were louder now. He peered inside, expecting to find her in any manner of state.

Except the one she was in.

She was laid across the bed, blonde hair spilling down her shoulders and around her head. Her blouse was unbuttoned to her waist, her bra unclasped in the front. A sheen of sweat stuck to her skin, her eyes closed, teeth tugging at the fingers of her left hand. Her right was trembling between her thighs, her skirt bunched around her hips, her underwear on the floor nearby.

The door creaked open half an inch as Hannibal stared at her, and Bedelia’s eyes flickered open as she paused. Her chest rose and fell deeply, and it was visible that she was dancing on the edge of pleasure.

“Bedelia,” he said softly, curiously, almost confused, and she smiled viciously as she threw her head back and reached for him.

“Bedelia,” he continued, not moving, “this is…”

“Not the reaction you were expecting?” She offered, a poisonous tone to her words. “I didn’t expect it either. Angel of Death. I think it suits me.”

It was clear to him then that she was still in the midst of sorting her reactions to the article. Had she truly recovered she would speak to him of her career, and he could offer some consolation.

“Are you,” he approached her carefully, “upset?”

“Upset?” She laughed, arching her back and using the fingers of her right hand to cup her breast, “I am enraged. They want to destroy you, and they think they might be able to do so through me. I’m positively helpless, Hannibal. I am you pet,” and she sneered on the last word. “I’ll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness, for a cage with the promise of freedom when I’m unable to know the meaning of the word anymore.”

“You intend not to do so.”

“I intend,” she said throatily, closing her eyes again, “to become exactly what they’ve labeled me. I’ll become what they fear, what they think I fear.”

“Angel of Death,” Hannibal repeated, watching the woman before him twist and glow alive with the power those who sought to catch her had given. She truly was beautiful, facing her denouncement and ridicule with glorious anger. It was something Hannibal could understand.

“Hannibal the Cannibal and the murderous psychiatrist…I think they’ve made us an excellent pair,” she sighed. “And I accept it fully. I like the way it sounds, the way it feels.” Bedelia ran both of her hands down her body, parting her legs and bending her knees until her toes pressed firmly into the mattress. The truth of her arousal was evident, and Hannibal’s breath hitched as the scent of her cascaded over him. She was intoxicating, powerful. “Tell me, Hannibal,” she said with a soft laugh, watching as he swallowed deeply, his eyes locked on her. “Do you?”

The vision of her was enough to make it impossible for anything beyond a nod to acknowledge his own reaction.

“Show me,” she ordered, hissing through her teeth. And in the wake of her command, Hannibal had a sudden need to obey.

He was on the bed in an instant, pushing her up as he stretched down, his strong hands parting her legs further as he took her clit between his lips and began to suck and lap at it with his tongue.

Bedelia arched above him, a satisfied gasp echoing loudly in his ears. She was glorious, glorious, and she reached down to pull his hair, urging him forwards.

She was immediately slick against him, the result of her earlier attention to herself, and he dropped his tongue to lick up her slit, tasting her and exhaling against her flushed skin. Hannibal expertly flickered his tongue against her clit, rolling it, thrusting it, his teeth coming to scrape gently and tear another gasp from her.

“Hannibal,” she moaned, and he moved his right hand to place a finger at her entrance as he continued to work her with his mouth.

Bedelia felt him there, felt him begin to push into her, and she suddenly reached down and gripped his wrist viciously. He paused then, looking up at her, his lips resting around her swollen bud. How she loved him then, loved the sight of him between her knees, his devotion evident. _Yes_ , she thought, _Angel of Death. His Angel of Death, and my beloved killer_. She could do this, would do this.

“No hands,” she said wickedly, gripping both of his in her own and holding them at her sides. She scratched her fingernails into his skin, letting him know this wasn’t to be debated.

He growled against her, his hands balling into fists as he tightly gripped the sheets around her and lowered his tongue to her core, dipping it inside of her as deeply as he could.

Bedelia pulsed around him, exalted breaths of “yes, _yes_ ” escaping her lips. Hannibal swirled his tongue inside of her, another rush of arousal rewarding his motions, and he groaned as he felt her press against him. He kept his tongue as still as he could, resisting the urge to move and lick as she rolled her hips, sinking him in and out of her desperately.

Her breath grew faster, louder, and a slight tremble in her hips a few moments later let him know she was close. Removing his tongue, he stilled her hips and silenced her frustrated whimper with his mouth pushed against her. Gently, gently, he pushed the hood of her clit with his teeth, sucking the sensitive, exposed bud with his tongue.

Bedelia’s hips bucked against him, and he snarled as he ripped his hands from beneath hers, forcing her thrusts to stop with a bruising grip on her thighs. Hannibal held her down as he repeated the motion again, his teeth more insistent. Bedelia cried out above him, the sensation stinging her with pleasure and pain, and her whole body shivered.

“ _Yes_ , Hannibal, _yes_ ,” she repeated over and over, higher and higher pitched as his tongue became relentless against her until finally, and beautifully, she shattered.

Her scream must have echoed throughout the entire city, and Hannibal found himself pleased at the possibility. He pressed soft kisses to her clit as she chased the last waves of her orgasm, moving to kiss above it once she was done. Bedelia was so, so very sensitive after release, and his grip disappeared as he let her legs splay limp around him.

Marks where his fingers had dug into her began to appear red on her skin, and Hannibal softly kissed them as her breathing became even again. Trailing and soothing each one with his lips, he looked up at her over the curve of her hip.

A smile pressed against her cheeks, and her hand came to lazily pet his hair, brushing it away from his eyes as he placed a final kiss on the inside of her thigh.

Hannibal stretched up above her, accepting her soft kiss and her pleased hum as she tasted herself on him.

“Well then my love,” he spoke quietly as he settled at her side, wrapping his arms around her back and waist to hold her against him, “it seems we will give them something to be quite afraid of.”

Bedelia nodded against his chest. “We’ll have to send a thank-you note to Miss Lounds.”

Hannibal smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Bedelia’s head. “Indeed we will. Perhaps a liver?” He teased.

“A heart,” Bedelia said seriously as she unbuttoned his dress shirt and pressed a kiss to his warm skin. “It must be a heart. So that she knows what monster she has truly united and created.”

“Yes,” Hannibal hissed happily, letting Bedelia push him on his back and trail her kisses down his stomach. “A heart it shall be.”


End file.
